


Small Gifts

by idelthoughts, p0cketw0tch



Category: Forever (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-16
Updated: 2014-12-16
Packaged: 2018-03-01 19:10:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2784431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idelthoughts/pseuds/idelthoughts, https://archiveofourown.org/users/p0cketw0tch/pseuds/p0cketw0tch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of "Skinny Dipper," Lucas does what he can to help his boss and friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Small Gifts

Three days after the events with Doctor Morgan’s stalker, the good Doctor is allowed back into the morgue from mandatory leave. He’s just as abrupt and enthusiastic as usual, and Lucas is relieved to see the Doctor whole. It isn't until a few hours later that the cracks start to show.

The first body of the day rolls in the morgue, and Henry freezes halfway to his office. Lucas has grown used to Doctor Morgan’s occasional lapses into thought and so he doesn't realize that anything is wrong until the Doctor turns towards him, clearly shaken.

"My apologies, Lucas." Henry says, attempting and failing to keep his voice steady. "I’m afraid I may need to make use of the office’s tools for the time being. My own are currently evidence, I’m afraid."

 _Stupid, Stupid!_  Lucas could kick himself for not remembering and heading off the doctor. He fights the urge to babble apologies. It’s hardly what the Doctor needs to hear at the moment.

The rest of the day passes awkwardly despite Lucas’s best attempt to distract Doctor Morgan with inane chatter. Neither of them is used to sharing a set of surgical tools and every time the Doctor reaches for a missing tool, he seems to curl further into himself.

-

The next day, Lucas places a leather satchel on Doctor Morgan’s desk and leaves the room before he can doubt himself. He spent all night agonizing over the gift. He’s not sure the Doctor will want a new surgical kit, much less accept it. Doctor Morgan is an intensely private person, and his personal toolkit clearly has a well loved history behind it. But Lucas has seen the haunted look in the Doctors eyes when he mentions Detective Martinez’ promise to return his tools once the victim’s blood has been removed and processed.

Besides, the surgical kit sitting on the doctor’s desk has a history too. It’s over a hundred years old and was used during both world wars. It’s a bit expensive of a purchase for someone with debts from both film and medical school, but if a man can’t spend money to help a friend overcome the trauma of facing a psychopathic stalker, what can he spend it on?

 

\------------------------------------

 

Henry knows something is up when Lucas won’t directly meet his eye as Henry enters the morgue.  Usually the first thing out of his mouth is some overly friendly greeting, a part of his relentless friendship campaign that Henry’s grown used to heading off with a series of increasingly sharp barbs.  His responses never seem to bother Lucas, much to his chagrin. However, it’s become a game Henry won’t admit he enjoys just a little bit.

"Good morning, Lucas."

Lucas finally looks up with studied casualness, as though he hasn’t been watching Henry walk the length of the morgue from the corner of his eye.

"Oh, hey Dr. Morgan.  Just signing in the fresh ones.  Two came in overnight."

"Very well.  Give me a moment, I’ll be right there."

Henry gives Lucas one last look as Lucas buries his face in the clipboard, and walks on to his office.  He exchanges his outdoor wear for his lab coat, and stops at his desk to glance through departmental mail before beginning the messy job of autopsy work.

He pauses, frowning.  On his desk, a carefully tied leather roll.

His heart beats a little faster, and he glances around the office, looking for anything else amiss.  At this point, he’s come to mistrust unidentified objects left lying on his desk, and he’s almost afraid to tackle this one.  But tackle it he must, because if this is another threat or warning, he’s not going to be unaware a second longer than necessary.

He sits in his chair and gingerly pulls at the leather thongs tying the roll together.  It slithers open, smooth with obvious years of wear.  It’s been well loved and cared for, and whatever it contains clinks as he spreads it flat on his desk. 

Inside, a set of gleaming tools. Each has been polished and honed with great attention.  He stares down at it, a little confused, then leans back in his chair to think.

Through the glass of his office, Lucas is craning his neck to look in at him. When Henry catches his eye, he ducks back and hides his face behind the clipboard again.

It clicks.  The awkward days of generic tools that didn’t fit his hands, and trying to grab for things already in use rather than just within reach where he expected them to be; Lucas’ unusual silence and attentiveness as Henry snapped bitterly about the lightweight, useless nature of modern cutting tools, and what he wouldn’t give for something with a bit more heft.

Before him, all his standards in the older, heavier style he prefers.  He runs a hand over the leather again, soft with time and the touch of many hands.  It speaks of history, and meaning.  He smiles.

With precise movements, he stands and gathers up the leather roll. He tucks it under his arm and exits his office, and damned if he can help the smile that lingers.  With the practiced flourish that fits naturally into his usual routine, he lays out the new roll and pulls out the hunting knife with the polished black handle and turns to Lucas.

"Alright, who’s first?"

Lucas pauses, frozen for a moment, and then falls into his usual relaxed pose, a grin a mile wide on his face.

"A Mr. Reinhardt, aged 67.  Suspicious coronary."

"Excellent.  Let’s get started."

Perhaps today will be a better day, Henry thinks.

**Author's Note:**

> The first section from Lucas' perspective was written by p0cketw0tch for idelthoughts, who then proceeded to write the second section from Henry's point of view as a beautiful response


End file.
